Dear Lizzie
by BethanyKatherine
Summary: Having waited long enough, Gordo has finally decided to proclaim his feelings to the object of his affections: best friend, Lizzie McGuire. And when she starts an advice column for the school eZine, what better way to tell her how he feels than to write t
1. Part I

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Don't own, so don't sue._

"…Dear Lizzie…" 

_Dear Lizzie,_

_I think I may like my best friend as more than a friend. What should I do?_

Signed, Confused Guy 

* * *

Having waited long enough, David "Gordo" Gordon had finally decided to proclaim his feelings to the object of his affections: best friend, Lizzie McGuire.

And when she starts an advice column for the school eZine, what better way to tell her how he feels than to write to her and ask for advice?

* * *

My dad's advice still fresh in my mind, I slid back into the chair in front of my computer and clicked back onto my email. There was one new message blinking to be opened.

'This is the one,' I thought, as I moved my mouse to open the letter.

"Dear Lizzie," the letter began. "I think I may like my best friend as more than a friend. What should I do?"

Oh-kay. I promised that I would answer the next letter than came my way, and this is it. But this is sort of a big issue. Who am I kidding? This is a _huge_ issue. This person's love life depends on what my reply is. But I did promise to Gordo, and I _can't_ let him down. So here goes.

"Dear Confused"

The words sat alone on my screen, the cursor flashing next to them.

Right. So…if I were giving advice to myself…what would I say? Well, that's stupid. Why would I ask myself for advice? And why would I email myself about it?

Okay, Lizzie, you are thinking too much about this. Pretend that this is Gordo writing to you, and he likes…someone. Yeah, that'll work.

Oh, but it says "best friend." Hmm…okay, so pretend he likes me, and he's asking me for advice. What would I tell him? "Tell her how you feel"?

No. How would I react if Gordo came up and told me he liked me? I'd freak. What was he doing messing up our relationship? How could he do this to me?

Whoa, hold on, McGuire. This is hypothetical Gordo we're thinking about here. He hasn't done anything yet. Or really, at all. He didn't even write this letter.

Oh, but how sweet would that be if he wrote to me, telling me that he liked me, only not really because I wouldn't know it was him.

Focus, McGuire. Focus!

Okay. So Gordo writes to me and tells me that he likes me as more than a friend: what do I tell him?

"Dear Confused,

I wish I could help you, but I can't."

It hurts to write, but really, what if Gordo went to someone and he told them he liked me, and they gave him the wrong advice? Our entire relationship could wash down the drain, and everyone knows that if something goes down the drain, that you need a plumber or a really, really long coat hanger to get it out.

Back to the email!

I should tell him to follow his heart. Because in movies and books and stuff, peoples' hearts always tell them what's right. And Gordo has a great heart, and it would totally tell him what to do in this situation.

But wait. If he has such a great heart, then why does he have to write?

No, not Gordo. Why does 'Confused Guy' have to write and ask when he probably has a great heart, too?

Maybe he's unsure of himself? Yeah, that's it. He's just unsure that he'll be able to go through with whatever his heart is telling him. He just needs reassurance that his heart will lead him true.

"Dear Confused,

I wish I would help you, but I can't. All I can say is follow your heart. It'll tell you what's right."

There. That sounds good.

I read it over once more and then clicked "send," whisking it away over the electrical paths of the World Wide Web. Wow, definitely just had a Gordo moment.

* * *

Sitting at his computer, after speaking to his best friend, a confused guy read over the reply he had gotten to his email. 

'Follow my heart?' he thought. 'It's telling me to tell her, but what will that do to our relationship?'

"Lizzie," Gordo said, standing from his computer chair.

"Yeah?" she asked, turning back to him, her blonde hair swaying.

"There's something I have to tell you."

She smiles at him. And he caves.

"You give great advice."

She gives him a funny, confused smile, and she leaves.

The brunet (A Note: not, I really do mean brunet. I'm not sure if it's actually a word, but he's a guy, so he's technically not a brunet_te_) sighed and slumped back into his chair. He held his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes. Defeated again.

He sat there for a few minutes, contemplating how he was always interrupted when he started to tell Lizzie of his feelings.

Suddenly, an idea dawned on him. He lifted his head and shook the mouse to awaken the computer screen. The email from Lizzie came up on his screen. With shaking fingers, he clicked reply and began typing.

"Dear Lizzie,

Thanks for your advice, but I think I need some more! I tried following my heart, but it's not working. My heart wants me to tell my friend how I feel, but each time I'm about to tell her, I chicken out and finish with some lame comment.

What should I do now?

Signed, Confused Guy"


	2. Part II

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Don't own, so don't sue._

"…Dear Lizzie…" 

When I got home, I shook the mouse to wake up my computer, and was surprised to see an icon blinking in the corner of the screen, indicating that I had a new email. Curiously, I clicked to open the message.

"Dear Lizzie,

Thanks for your advice, but I think I need some more! I tried following my heart, but I still don't know what to do. My heart wants me to tell my friend how I feel, but each time I'm about to tell her, I chicken out and finish with some lame comment.

What should I do now?

Signed, Confused Guy"

'He wrote back,' was the first thing I thought. Then I thought, 'Oh no, now I'll have to give him more advice!'

That's okay, though, because obviously my advice was good before, he just needs more.

I can do this, I can do this.

"Dear Confused,

Write your friend a note. Girls love getting notes, and writing to her, putting your feelings in words, will show her how much she means to you. Good luck! I hope things work out with you and your friend! And I want you to tell me all about what happens!

Signed, Lizzie."

"There," Lizzie said aloud to a silent room. "That sounds almost professional!" 

She hovered her hand over the mouse, quickly rereading what she had just written. Then satisfied, she clicked "send" and logged off.

* * *

Write her a note, eh? Well, this I could do. Writing was totally my thing. Sort of. I took out a sheet of paper and picked up my pen, holding the tip just above the paper. What to write, what to write.

"Dear Lizzie"

I struggled with draft after draft of my note, never quite satisfied with how I was coming off. At last, after it had gotten quite late, I turned off the light and fell asleep. I worried the whole night about how I would give her the note and how she would react. There was really very little sleep for me that night.

* * *

The first thing I noticed when I got to school was Gordo hovering around my locker, seeming to be dancing about on his toes.

"Gordo?" I asked. "What are you doing?"

"Aha!" He replied, startled. He spun around, apparently extremely surprised to see me. "I was, ah, checking for…"

"Yes?" I prompted.

"Fruit flies!" He said. "Fruit flies! I was reading about fruit flies last night and they really seem to like you, I mean I like y—I mean—most farmers spray their orchards with hazardous chemicals to protect them from bugs. Did you know that?"

"Um, no." I moved him out of the way so I could get to my locker. He sprung away from me, still dancing on his toes.

"Are you okay, Gordo?" I asked as I pulled out a notebook. "You look like you chugged a whole pot of coffee this morning.

"Ah, yes," he answered. "Adrenaline will do that to you."

I just looked at him, as if I were trying to decipher something illegible written across his forehead. "Right," I said. Then I told him I would be late for class and scurried off.

Things pretty much got weirder from there. All day Gordo was acting jumpy and nervous and…just _weird_. He kept sneaking looks at me when he saw me reading something, or when he saw me thinking about something. Besides wondering what was wrong with Gordo, my thoughts kept drifting to 'Confused Guy' and I wondered if he would take my advice. I was kind of hoping that he wouldn't, since I didn't know how his friend would react when she read the note. But the again, I would love to get a note from someone telling me they liked me.

Finally the last bell rang, and I was free to go. I opened my locker and packed up my stuff, and just as I was about to slam the door and leave, I noticed a piece of paper folded over and over. I was pretty sure it had fallen from my locker, so I pocketed it and made my way to the front door.

A Note: Oh my gosh, you guys. I seriously started this thing, like, four months ago. Two, whatever. Anyway, I'm continuing now. Hope it's up to par with my last post. Oh yeah, and it's my birthday tomorrow!! Yay!! 

Thanks for reading (as always),

~B*K~


	3. Part III

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Don't own, so don't sue._

Part III

That was it. Everything that happened in the next few days was now out of my hands. Oh sure, I had a say in a bit of it, a few minor decisions here and there. But really, when it all came down to it, my future was being decided by someone I hardly knew.

Actually, that's not quite true. I knew Lizzie very well. I had been her best friend forever. I held nothing back from her. All except for one thing. And soon, that one thing, that one secret she didn't yet know about me, wouldn't be solely mine anymore.

I had seen Lizzie open her locker. She noticed a small folded piece of paper on the floor. She slid it into her pocket as she made her way out to the buses.

I leaned back against the wall and slid along the wall to the floor. I tilted my head back and stared at the ceiling.

I wondered what she would think when she read what I had written. Knowing Lizzie, she would react one of two ways:

1) She would absolutely flip out and try obsessively hard to convince herself that what she had read was fiction, not fact.

2) She would react in one of her rare and surprisingly calm ways, taking what I had written to heart and processing rationally her course of action.

Weighing what I knew about Lizzie and her normal reaction patterns and the situation I had landed her with, I was pretty sure that she would be going with Option Number 1 and having a mental breakdown. I really hoped that she would wait until she got home to read the note, preferably when she was on a soft surface, such as her bed or a couch. I didn't want her breaking down on the bus or on a staircase or something. 

I only wanted to share my feelings, not kill her.

Oh goodness, I thought suddenly, this last pondering seeming quite possible in my current, adrenaline-ed state, What have I done?

I jumped up and bolted out the door, tearing desperately towards Lizzie house.

A Note: Again, so sorry for my non-writing phase! I really am sorry people! I should have put a warning sign on each of my stories, or my profile, or something: CAUTION: Author tends to leave stories hanging without resolution.

I'm really going to try to finish all my stories, though, since I now you people love them (at least I hope you do…).

Yeah, so read, review, email, do what you want. Just no more flamers. I know I'm a terrible person, a very naughty author, I done bad, but pleeeeeeeeaaaaase don't hurt me!

There. I've said what I wanted to say. Now, go! Read! Be merry!

Love to all my readers,

~Bethany*Katherine~


End file.
